


my bonnie

by zhuzhubi



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Hand Jobs, Murder, Spencer Reid as Unsub, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, past drug abuse, unsub!reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27887938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhuzhubi/pseuds/zhuzhubi
Summary: spencer would do anything for her. anything at all(in which unsub!reader teases and flirts with spencer)
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	my bonnie

**Author's Note:**

> im such a sucker for dark!fic fuck...
> 
> also, this is super vaguely inspired by article of faith by dontshootmespence on tumblr. it turned out super different, but i really like that fic so im shouting it out anyway lol

________

The courtroom is silent except for the persistent sound of metal on metal, the jangle of handcuffs as the defendant is led inside. He’s wearing a tailored suit, but his curly brown hair is stringy and unbrushed, he hasn’t shaved for a good few days. His eyes are cold, his face unreadable - he looks up and makes eye contact with a woman across the room, a woman who once thought she knew who he was.

She shudders, taking a moment to swallow it down, to force herself to stop reminiscing. To stop longing for a man, for a friend, who she lost long ago. She brushes her dark hair out of her face, skillfully readjusting her pantsuit as she stares right back at him, hoping for a glimmer of the man she once knew. She thinks of the people alongside her, of the six other men and women who are also grieving. Who are also waiting to testify. 

Two officers accompany the defendant, and they uncuff him once he reaches his seat. He nods to his lawyer and the woman gets a flash of nostalgia, of him nodding to her as the team fired off possibilities, of his brilliant mind and insights and -

“The matter before the court at this time, The United States of America versus Spencer Reid. All rise.”

She stands, holding her chin up high like the unit chief she is as the court proceedings begin. 

…

_Spencer walks into the interrogation room with a false meekness about him, playing up his beta-male image to the highest degree. He makes sure to avert his eyes, to stare down at his hands as he sits down at the table in front of her._

_Her name is (y/n) (y/l/n) and she’s their suspected unsub, wanted for the murder of fourteen men over the past five years. They have nothing on her - no witnesses, no DNA, only the bare minimum of a profile. And yet Spencer is sure that they’ve got the right woman, that if he can just get her to slip up they’ll be able to close the case and go home._

_She smirks as soon as she sees him, cocking her head to the side as she peers up at him through hooded eyes. “Hello,” she says, “What can I call you, Mr. FBI Agent?”_

_“D-dr. Reid,” he stutters._

_“Dr. Reid,” she muses, drawing out the syllables and mouthing it a few times to herself before exclaiming, “Reidie! Did your friends ever call you that? Reidie, I mean.”_

_“T-they don’t, no,” Spencer pulls at his collar, “So, um, Miss (y/l/n) if we could maybe be a little more professional…”  
_

_“Awe,” she pouts, “I like it, though. But I guess if you’re uncomfortable then…,” she trails off, raising her eyebrows in a teasing manner as she smirks over at him, “So, Dr. Reid. What am I here for today? You catch me speeding or something?”_

_He snorts out a laugh before he can stop himself, raising his eyes to really look at her for the first time. She’s beautiful, so beautiful - he feels something stirring in his belly that he wasn’t prepared for. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and his throat feels dry all of the sudden. “N-no,” he croaks, coughing to clear his throat and taking a deep breath before starting again, “No, Miss (y/l/n). We’ve brought you in because we think you have vital information that might be able to help -”_

_“Oh drop the act,” she interrupts him, rolling her eyes and leaning back in her chair, “I know why I’m here, Mister Federal Agent, I’ve been following the news. You think I killed those men, don’t you? You think I’m a serial killer.”_

_And Spencer knows it’s time to stop playing at nervousness, to lean forward on the table and glare, but he finds himself crossing his arms over his chest instead. Shying away in what he knows is a defensive posture, looking down at the table as he nods, “Yes, we do.”_

_She leans in instead, intertwining her hands and letting her chin rest over them as she smirks. “But you don’t have any evidence, do you Dr. Reid? Because if you did I’d be here in handcuffs and -” she lets her right pointer finger trail down her left wrist, tilting her head and making a show of spreading her arms apart, “look what’s missing.”_

_Spencer swallows, his saliva thick in his throat and his breath shaky in his chest. He knows he’s running out of time, that he has to say something before she solidifies her upper hand and walks, but his voice is caught in his throat. He finds himself entranced by her, finds his gaze following her hands as she drags them through her hair._

_“Well!” she exclaims, jolting him out of his stupor as she slams her hands down on the table, “If that’s all, my favorite show starts in an hour so I’d better get going.”_

_All Spencer can do is blink up at her and she rises to her feet and gathers her things, letting her hips sway back and forth as she stalks over to him. She peers down at him for a moment, smirking as his eyes trail over her body and he licks his lips, before leaning in to whisper in his ear, “I hope we meet again someday, Dr. Reid. You know where to find me.”_

_And then she’s heading for the door, walking just slowly enough that he knows it’s on purpose._

_“Spencer!” he blurts, and she turns back to him with a single raised brow._ _“My name, um,” he stutters, his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, “M-my name. It’s Spencer.”_

_Her lips twitch upwards and something unidentifiable flashes through her eyes. She doesn’t say anything, just takes one look at the camera in the corner and turns so that her face is out of view. And then she smiles at him for real and that feeling in his belly is back, that fluttering feeling he thought had died along with Maeve - she blows him a kiss before turning away and leaving for real this time._

_Spencer’s cheeks are hot as he watches her go, his mind uncharacteristically blank. It’s not until the door slams closed behind her that he jolts back to himself, scrambling to his feet and ignoring the teammates he knows are watching him through the one-way glass. He takes his time cleaning up the interrogation room, pretends to fumble with the remote for the camera before managing to turn it off, then meticulously resorts the case files._

_Emily gives him this look when he finally reemerges, as do Luke and JJ. But Spencer is a master of deflecting concern - he pretends he doesn’t notice, just walks back over to the case boards and starts firing off deductions until they feel obligated to let it go._

…

“How do you plead?”

Spencer stands tall as he answers the judge, doesn’t waver as he says, “Guilty,” with a smirk. Emily can’t help but compare it to (y/n)’s, to the way her lips curved upwards in that interrogation room all those months ago. She can’t help but think back and try to figure out what went wrong, what she could have done differently.

She noticed him acting differently after that case, after their prime suspect walked and they were forced to let it go. But she put it down to him feeling responsible, to him feeling like their failure was his fault for stumbling during that interview. In a way it was, it _was_ his fault, but Emily can’t help but feel like it was really hers.

_What if I had gone in instead?_ she thinks as Spencer takes the stand, _Would we be here in this courtroom? Would we have caught her?_

She’s ashamed of the thought that comes after that, of _He was never the same after Cat Adams and prison. Maybe this was inevitable, maybe he was destined to become -_

_No!_ she pushes it away, _No, not Spencer! That woman got to him, I just know it. He’s still good deep inside, he’s still our Boy Genius, our Spencer Reid. This must be a mistake, just like it was with Cat. We can prove that (y/n)’s framing him, that she was manipulating him -_

Maybe that was true at first, but deep down Emily knows he’s too far gone. (y/n) saw the darkness that lingered inside of him, that darkness that had been growing since prison (since he was a kid, since his dad left and his mom forgot about him and those bullies tied him up), and amplified it. And maybe he never would have fallen this far on his own, but what (y/n) got him to do was inside of him long before he met her in that interrogation room.

_We always say that unsubs make the best profilers,_ Emily thinks to herself, _Maybe I shouldn’t be so shocked._

…

_Just over a month later, Spencer’s sitting on his couch turning a burner phone over and over in his hands. It’s the kind he used to use to call his dealer, to buy drugs without leaving any evidence. That’s not what he’s thinking about now. Or maybe it is, in a way - he thinks about (y/n) the way he used to think about Dilaudid. It’s like he had a taste back in that interrogation room and now he needs more. He needs more, and he knows how to get it. How to satisfy that urge._

_The number is burned into his brain from the case files and he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about the ten digits that will surely bring him some relief - his hands start moving before he has the chance to think better of it, to remember that giving in to his addictions never leads anywhere good. The phone rings once, twice, three times -_

_“Who is this?” she answers, her voice echoes through the tinny speakers, just as intoxicating as it was thirty-four days ago._

_“It’s…it’s Spencer”_

_“Spencer,” she replies, the smirk clear in her voice as she drags out the word, “I’ve been waiting for you to call.”_

_He can practically feel his pupils dilate as he sucks in a shaky breath. Those few words rush through him and the high is better than any hit he ever took - he doesn’t think he can resist this time, doesn’t know if he even wants to. He wants to know her, wants to hear her speak, wants to touch her. He’s not sure there’s anything he wouldn’t do just to have her._

_“We’re gonna have so much fun together,” she says, and then he’s gone._

…

Emily can barely stomach it as he starts to recount everything he did. She was almost hoping that he’d be afraid, that he’d retell the story like Daria Samson, like someone who was held captive and only participated because the real unsub had broken them. 

It’s not like that at all - Spencer seems excited by it, aroused even. They never found any…any evidence of _that_ nature at the crime scenes, but suddenly Emily wonders if they ever fucked over the bodies. If they ever ravished each other while one of their victims was begging and pleading and screaming across the room.

She hates thinking about him that way, hates thinking about the horrible things she knows he’s done. _Not our Spencer,_ she wants to yell at the top of her lungs, _Not the man who cares about people so deeply. Not the man who never,_ never _puts himself first. He’s the godfather to three boys, and I know that he loves them. He’s always so angry when any of us, anyone from his family gets hurt - there’s no way. There’s no way!_

But he knows things that he shouldn’t, that he _couldn’t_ know if he wasn’t telling the truth. He knows exactly how they died in gruesome detail. Detail only his eidetic memory could preserve. Emily rubs a hand over her eyes, squeezing them shut and thinking maybe - _just maybe_ \- her eyes are lying to her. That this is all some kind of elaborate illusion, like the one Scratch laid out for her years ago. 

She blinks them open again to Spencer’s smirk, to the flare of excitement he can’t quite hold back as he tells them about his first kill. 

…

_The man is tied to his own bed, his limbs held apart by rope as he struggles, fear flashing through his eyes. “Please, please! Don’t do this, don’t do this!” he begs, thrashing around as (y/n) stalks closer, cocking her head to the side as she trails a knife over his bare chest._

_“Why not?” she pouts, bringing the knife up to his cheeks and watching his breath quicken as she hovers it over his eyes._

_“Why are you doing this?” he sobs, snotty tears leaking down his face, “What did I ever do to deserve this? I don’t even know who you are!”_

_“No,” she slices his cheek and smirks when he winces, “But I do know that you deserve this, Michael.”_

_His face goes ghost white as he registers the name - it’s his own after all. He thrashes harder, wails of anguish escaping his lips as begins to process his demise. He doesn’t notice her gesturing to someone who’s waiting out in the hall as he clenches his eyes shut in terror, doesn’t notice a second figure join her in sneering down at him in disgust._

_“Hello Michael,” a third voice says, jarringly soft and gentle._

_Michael snaps open his eyes and freezes, his breath catching in his throat as he takes in the man before him. “N-No,” he stutters, the words scarcely more than a whisper. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he cries, “We were just kids, we didn’t mean it! You don’t have to do this, Spencer!”_

_“How does it feel to be tied up, huh Michael?” Spencer replies, leaning in to brush his hands over the rope binding Michael’s left wrist, “Do you like it?”_

_“Nonono,” Michael shakes his head against the pillows, “No!”_

_“Yeah,” Spencer nods as (y/n) hands him the knife, “I didn’t either.”_

…

They cuff him when the trial is over, pull him to his feet and dragging him away as if he were a dog. Emily doesn’t know what comes over her, but suddenly she’s rising to her feet and trying to stumble over to him, flailing against the officer that grabs her arm and the judge who calls for order in the court.

Spencer turns his head on instinct - he makes eye contact with Emily and it’s like she can see a flash of his old self shining through. He looks like he did when Judge Frost denied bail, like he did when he really _was_ innocent. She wants to run over and give him a hug, to wrap him in her arms and tell him, “It’s gonna be okay, Spencer, everything’s gonna be alright.” She wants to shake him and scream, “Why? Why did you do that, why did you run off with her, why did you leave us? Why, Spencer, why!?”

She doesn’t do any of that, just stares at him with a crease in her brow and tears beading in the corners of her eyes. JJ comes up beside her and whispers, “Come on Emily, we have to go,” and Emily knows that but _we can’t leave without Spencer, we can’t! Not again, we can’t let them take him again…_

“Goodbye Emily,” Spencer tells her as he disappears out of the court. Somehow it feels very final. Somehow she knows it’s the last time.

…

_“Don’t worry so much, Spencer - haven’t you realized by now that I always have a plan?” (y/n) cups his face with her hands, her lips ghosting over his as she crawls into his lap._

_She kisses him with a fire like nothing he’s ever felt before - he gets lost in it for a second, almost forgetting that his old team is hot on their tails as he grinds up into her. But then he remembers and he turns his head away, mumbling, “(y/n) we don’t have time for that right now, my team -”_

_“Shhhh,” she whispers, kissing up his jaw until her lips rest right over his ear, “I just said I had a plan, don’t you want to hear it Dr. Reid?”_

_“Yes,” he moans as she sneaks a hand down to cup him, his cock already straining against the fabric as she chuckles above him._

_“So needy” she mumbles, “Why don’t you come for me, and then I’ll tell you?”_

_And he nods because he can never argue with her - she takes her time unbuckling his belt and slipping her hand inside, teasing him “We have to be fast, Reidie. Don’t want the feds to catch us, do we?” as she thumbs over the head._

_He’s putty in her hands, whimpering and moaning as she bites his neck and strokes his cock. He comes almost embarrassingly quickly, painting his shirt as he pants against her and she rocks him through the aftershocks. “Good boy,” she whispers, “I always knew you’d be such a good boy, did you know that Spencer? From the moment you walked into that interrogation room, I knew you were the perfect one.”_

_He looks up at her with adoration, soaking in her praise like she’s his God. “I love you,” he mumbles, “I love you so much.”_

_She smiles down at him and thumbs over his cheeks, pressing a kiss to his lips before leaning in and whispering, “You know that I’ll always come back for you, don’t you baby?”_

_Spencer nods._

_(y/n) smirks, humming satisfaction as she continues, “Good. Now here’s what we’re going to do…”_


End file.
